


Night Dark Like Bruises

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bruises, Caretaking, Comfort Sex, Dark Sherlock, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:05:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's been rescued, but he's badly beaten. Sherlock comforts him, then seeks to release his anger in the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Dark Like Bruises

Sherlock stopped in the doorway to Johns room. He lay in just his pants, mercifully asleep after the night he'd had.  A gash showed along his temple and his bare back and shoulders were covered in bruises, trailing down to his thighs and even a couple on his calves. The wrists were still raw from where he'd been bound. Sherlocks fists clenched as he remembered finding John

All the evidence showed John had been beaten after he was bound. Lestrade made no comment when Sherlock had quietly broken the kneecap of one of the men. He'd insisted on taking John home to rest, deducing most of the wounds were superficial.

Raising his head, John regarded Sherlock. "Just going to stare?"

Sherlock dropped his dressing gown and crossed the room. Crawling across the bed he nudged John's legs apart and leaned over his battered back to kiss his neck. John groaned, then whimpered as the kiss turned into a bite.

Sherlock knelt back and ran his hand along Johns back, barely touching the bruises. John moaned and moved against the bed. "Hurts," he whispered, but didn't try to pull away.

Sherlock leaned down to lick a bruise. John moaned again, thrusting slowly against the bed.

Watching John, Sherlock reached down and slid his pants off slowly. He frowned as he saw the mark on John’s arse. “Did they…?”

John shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Threatened to if I didn’t cooperate, but they seemed satisfied enough with beating me to start with.”

Sherlock got the pants off and gently rolled John over. John hissed as the sheets rubbed his bruises, but now Sherlock could see his face and the tears threatening the corner of his eyes. “Should have broken more kneecaps,” muttered Sherlock darkly.

Chuckling softly, John reached for Sherlock. “I knew you’d rescue me.”

Sherlock leaned down and bit John’s shoulder. “You’re mine.”

John groaned and buried his hands in Sherlock’s hair. “Yes.”

Reaching to the bedside table, Sherlock grabbed the lube. “Are you sure I’m up for this?” asked John.

“You’re the doctor,” purred Sherlock, “but looks to me like you are already there.” He leaned down and licked a drop of precum from John’s cock.

John moaned softly as Sherlock watched him with dark eyes. He ran his tongue along John’s shaft. Moaning and writhing, John moved against the bed, breath short and peppered with winces as the material rubbed his bruises.

“Here,” Sherlock lay down and helped John straddle his waist so their cocks rubbed against each other. John leaned down and kissed him. Sherlock supported his arms, watching him. “You have control,” he said softly.

John nodded and reached for the lube before settling back, rocking his cock slightly against Sherlock. Taking them both in one hand, Sherlock watched John pop open the lube and started to finger himself with a whimper, eyes closing as his head fell back.

“You are beautiful,” breathed Sherlock as John rocked between his own fingers and Sherlock’s hand. A tear leaked out and Sherlock let go of their cocks to brush it away.

Shifting forward, John lowered himself onto Sherlock’s cock. Lips parted, breathless, Sherlock carefully cupped John’s hips as he drove himself down. “Sherlock,” John groaned as the other man thrust up to meet him. Settling back down, Sherlock let John set the pace, trying to give his lover what he needed.

John tucked his head against his chest, planting his hands on Sherlock’s narrow chest. Sherlock wrapped a hand around his cock. Moaning, John’s eyes stayed screwed tightly shut as he quickly reached his completion.

Sagging forward, John melted into Sherlock’s arms. After a few minutes, Sherlock slipped out of him. “You didn’t…” John raised his head.

“It is fine,” soothed Sherlock. He cupped John’s cheek and ran a thumb just below the gash on his temple. “Sleep.”

John nodded and rest his head on Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock carded his fingers through John’s short hair. “I am sorry I did not get there sooner,” he said quietly once John was safely asleep.

There was a whimper that indicated the start of a nightmare. Sherlock shifted him and smoothed his hair until he settled into more peaceful dreams. Carefully and quietly Sherlock got up from underneath him, settling John onto his stomach. He picked up a sheet and gently covered John, mindful of the bruises. Then he threw on clothes.

Heading downstairs, Sherlock pulled on his coat and head out into the night. It didn’t take long on the dark streets to find what he was looking for. The mugger pocketed his gun and turned away from his victim, only to find himself facing Sherlock.

Startled, the man raised his gun, only for Sherlock to snatch it from his hand and break his wrist. The mugger howled in pain and dropped to his knees. Sherlock pulled the stolen money out of the man’s pocket and dropped it at the victim’s feet. “Go home.”

The man scrambled to take the money and run off. Sherlock kicked the mugger in the face, then twice in the ribs and once in the back as the man tried to curl around himself. Distant sirens told him it was time to go. Straightening his coat he headed home.

John was perched on the edge of his chair, robe thrown loosely on. He cupped his tea, staring into space. “John?” Sherlock’s voice was calm but concerned.

Sipping his tea, John barely moved. “You left.”             

“I am back now,” Sherlock hung up his coat and scarf and sat down across from John. The clock struck three am as John set down his empty cup and moved to sit in Sherlock’s lap, just resting his head against Sherlock chest as if reassuring himself of his heartbeat. Sherlock smoothed his hair again and stared at a bruise on John’s shoulder, just barely peeking out from under the robe.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


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